An Evening With A Winecask
by La Reine Bleu
Summary: Sebastien Grantaire introduces a few of his friends and acquaintances...


Who?  
  
Who. Usually the primary question in a man's mind when making an acquaintance for the first time. It also tends to be the easiest to answer, and most certainly is in this case, so without further pause I present to you Sebastian Francois Grantaire. 27 years old, not the worst looking person around, although by no means the best, and the Cafe Musain's resident alcoholic cynic. Delighted to meet you. Pull up a chair, grab a bottle and make yourself at home. Why don't I sit with the others? Ah, it's not so bad back here, and you certainly get a good view of the place. Quite ideal really if you have got nothing better to do than sit in a rundown cafe watching would-be revolutionary students planning the best way to get themselves blown up in the name of Liberty and the Republic.  
  
Now you're settled a little, let me introduce you to a few of the Musain's regular patrons. You see that man over there? Dark hair, glasses, studying that map as though it holds all the secrets of the Universe? Julien Combeferre. Just turned 22, studious, determined to be a lawyer if the revolution doesn't kill him first, and a calming influence in this otherwise chaotic whirlwind of youthful ideals. A bit on the serious side for my taste, but a kind soul. He's helped me home on a couple of occasions when I temporarily misplaced my sense of direction after spending rather more time with the Absinthe fairy than may have been strictly necessary. It takes a lot to ruffle Julien. You could tell him that the apocalypse was nigh and the moment of judgement had arrived and he probably wouldn't do more than just blink at you. He does that a lot by the way, especially if he's misplaced his glasses, which happens on a regular basis and is rather comical to watch. We tend to leave him to figure it out for himself that they're actually on top of his head where he put them - he always realises eventually. I like Julien. I wouldn't necessarily say we were friends, but he's someone I don't object to spending my time with.  
  
You're still here? Very brave my friend. Most people have made their excuses and left for more pleasant company by now. I applaud your courage. Or is it stupidity? Oh, here come Joly and Laigle. A rather queer couple (no pun intended) in all senses of the word. Not a lot you need to know about these two, apart from the fact that they share everything. Ah, I see you raise an eyebrow there. "Everything?" I hear you ask. Yes, oh naive listener. Everything. A certain young lady going by the name of Musichetta could certainly testify to that one if you'd care to ask her... or maybe you'd just rather take my word for it? I leave the decision entirely up to you and move on to more tasteful topics…Oh you want to know more? What are they like? Well as you asked so nicely I suppose I can digress for a moment.  
  
Adrien Joly. Best summed up in one word - Hypochondriac. There isn't one illness or symptom the dear boy hasn't had at least once in his life at some point or another. Several of them are ongoing complaints. No need to be too concerned, he's been at death's door for the past 22 years, another month or so won't make much of a difference. And anyhow, our Laigle is always there to take his mind off the latest ache or pain. Probably contributes to a few of them now I think about it, but for the sake of your delicate ears we won't dwell there.  
  
Right, Laigle. Florian. Bossuet. Whatever you want to call him. I have to hand it to the fellow, I've never known anyone be inflicted with such a high degree of unluckiness and also manage to have such an over abundance of cheer. He is always laughing, or at the very least has a huge grin on his face. Unless he's otherwise occupied with Adrien. On second thoughts, maybe I should say especially when he's otherwise occupied with Adrien, but that's really none of our business. They say you either laugh or you cry, and I suppose Florian has chosen the happier option. Good for him. Between the two of them they certainly make life quite entertaining at times. Enough details for now? I'll move on then.  
  
I was planning to introduce you to Etienne Courfeyrac next, but as he isn't here yet, you'll just have to use your imagination. Dresses better than all the rest of us put together, charming, witty, and never one to turn down an opportunity for fun. Unlike the last two though, Courfeyrac definitely prefers his fun with skirts on. A bit of a ladies' man is Etienne, or so he likes you to think anyway. Broken a few hearts in his time I believe, and doesn't appear to be planning to reform his wicked ways anytime soon, so if anyone asks, you haven't seen him. Mind you, it was highly entertaining the last time a cast off grisette caught up with him, I never realised Etienne could run so fast. The bruising went down after a week though, so he got off lightly. Lucky she wasn't a very good shot is all I have to say (although the lamp just outside the Musain probably won't agree with me on that one.)  
  
A drink? You look as though you need one. Don't worry, only two more intrepid revolutionaries to go now. You can't be too alarmed by what you're hearing, as you're still here.  
  
You see the dreamy looking dark haired fellow who looks as though the world ended five minutes ago but no one remembered to tell him until now? That my friend is the honourable Baron Marius Pontmercy. A new addition to our little group, and I'm not that sure what he's doing here to be honest. I don't think he really knows either though, so I'm not going to spend too much time worrying about it. Our dear Marius is in love. He'll tell you all about it himself before too long, but I just thought I'd warn you. The last unsuspecting stranger he cornered was here for over two hours. I don't know much about the man, apparently he was training to go into the worthy and honourable practice of law, but I haven't seen any evidence of that lately - his mind is otherwise occupied, as I have already mentioned. Appears that the girl's father is being a little difficult at the moment or something. Ah well, he'll get over it. And if he doesn't, I know for a fact that there's at least one young lady who would be more than willing to offer a little comfort. Lovely young thing by the name of Eponine, would do the boy a world of good, even if only as a temporary distraction, but he's blinded by the light from his darling angel's halo. Her name? Oh, Corset or Croissant or something to that affect. I tend to be too drunk by the time he gets to the part of the story where he learns her name to remember. I've been told I'm not missing much though, so it's not something I lose any sleep over. You've heard enough about Pontmercy's love life? You'll have heard a lot more by the end of the evening mark my words, so I'll leave it to the dear boy to tell you the rest.  
  
One more to go now, the end is in sight. Samuel Feuilly. A word of warning, don't, and I repeat don't, mention Poland to him. Why not? Oh, he gets dreadfully excited over the whole thing. Really best to just avoid the subject. He started throwing things last time and it all got a bit messy. A fan maker by trade, cheerful soul and I doubt if he's ever had an enemy in his whole life. You can always count on Samuel  
  
to listen in a crisis, though I don't envy him the number of secrets I'm sure he's keeping for other people. Too much of a burden for my liking. Like Julien, I wouldn't say we were exactly friends, but we get on well enough.  
  
Well that's everyone for you faithful listener. The Friends of the ABC Society. I hope our little talk has been entertaining for you. Certainly helped while away a significant amount of what could have been quite a boring evening anyway.  
  
Forgotten someone? No, I don't think so... Combeferre, Joly and Laigle, Pontmercy, Feuilly and look, even Courfeyrac has deigned to bless us with his presence at last. Ah, I see. You want to know about Enjolras. I thought you might ask somehow. Everyone does eventually. He's not the sort of man you can really miss is he? Tall, blond, handsome, you could almost say beautiful I suppose if you were in the habit of describing people in that manner. He's the leader of our little group here, the real fire behind this so-called Revolution in the making. Passionate, private and until about six months ago I was the bane of his life. That's right, there was no one on this earth that he despised more, and trust me, Patrice can take scorn and disdain to unprecedented levels. I can't say I blame him - I always found a great amount of inner satisfaction in bating him. I would have argued black was white if it meant I'd get a rise out of him. Which I did. Frequently. Some things never change I suppose. There's nothing like a few bottles of wine followed by Absinthe to make someone feel like being particularly obnoxious. And being obnoxious is my personal forte. Especially when Enjolras is the target of my comments.  
  
It's a pity you haven't been able to witness one of his speeches - that really is a sight to see. All the little demi-god has to do is start to speak and the whole room is silent and hanging on his every word. They'd all go and throw themselves into the Seine if he told them to, every last one of them, myself included. Not that I agree with a word he's saying, but that doesn't detract from the overall effect. It even keeps me silent, for a while at least anyway. He's having a heated debate with Julien at the moment anyway - he'll be quite exhausted by it all if he carries on like that much longer. You can always tell when he's had enough, the fact he's gone as white as a sheet is a sure sign. He won't give in though, not until he's proved his point at least twice over, complete with diagrams and a full set of appendices and endnotes. Stubbornness, thy name is Enjolras. I would attempt to take him home, but I know better than to try that. Can't even do what I used to and act so drunk that he feels compelled to drag me home for my own good - he's gotten wise to that trick now.  
  
You're looking confused, forgive me. Yes, Patrice and I live together. A comfortable little arrangement which suits the both of us very nicely thank you for asking. How did it come about? Yes, I do remember saying that he and I were not exactly the best of friends. It's funny how things can change isn't it? You're sure you really want to know? Well, if you've got the time, I've got the words, though I do strongly advise you to have that drink before we begin. It's a long, complicated story… 


End file.
